


about time

by littlehellions



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boys Kissing, Dorks in Love, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Newt (Maze Runner) Has a Crush, that's a tag i'm crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehellions/pseuds/littlehellions
Summary: Relaxing in the other boy’s hold, his arms left where they were hugging his knees in favour of attaching himself to Newt, clinging to him as a lifeline.///(five accidental kisses and one that was Very Much Intentional)





	about time

1  
  
The first time it happened, Thomas had just returned with Minho to the glade after running all day. It wasn’t uncommon at all, and was almost to be expected, for the two to return to a waiting Newt. The tradition had started the day Thomas had been elected Runner, and in all honesty, he liked it too much to bring it up and potentially jeopardize the unspoken agreement that Newt would meet Thomas (and subsequently Minho) every day before they reported to the shed to mark down their findings.  
  
So yeah, it wasn’t out of the ordinary when after a long day of running and memorizing Newt handed him a fresh jug of water to share with Minho, greeting them with a friendly, “Hey Tommy. Minho,” and a small wave.  
  
Thomas took a swing from the water before passing it off to Minho. “Hey Newt, thanks for the water.”  
  
“Psh- It’s no problem...” Newt replied, a small smile gracing his features as he fixed his eyes on the grass below their feet. Thomas could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest at the notion that  _he_ , of all people, could make the fearless second-in-command blush like he was.

“Hey lovebirds!” Minho called from where he was already starting to walk away, “Hurry up, I need Thomas to come help me!”   
  
Thomas snorted while Newt rolled his eyes and looked up again. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Thomas called back to Minho before turning back to Newt. “I’ll, uh, see you later?”   
  
Newt just shook his head fondly, “Yeah Tommy, I’ll see ya later,” he said, leaning forward to lightly kiss his cheek before the two parted.   
  
It wasn’t until Thomas was in the map room that he registered what had happened. Newt had kissed him. Just on the cheek, but still! A kiss was a kiss, right?   
  
Little did he know that Newt was in the same situation out by the gardens, silently begging for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. How had he done something like that without even noticing?   
  
  
2   
  
The second time was in the aftermath of escaping the Glade, mere hours since the survivors had been placed inside dorms and locked up. The Ratman has told them they were safe, but Thomas, much like many others, was hesitant to believe him.   
  
They had come so far, but was the price too high? They had lost so many boys to the grievers and the fear, one of whom was Chuck, the rosy-cheeked little boy who Thomas had grown increasingly attached to. Now that they were “safe”, Thomas’s mind was filled with guilt and sorrow over the young boy, wishing quietly to himself that it had been himself who died instead of Chuck.   
  
Lamenting over all of this, Thomas was sitting, curled in on himself in a lower bunk pushed against the corner wall. He chose this bunk as it was far away from all the other gladers, who chose beds close together by the table of food.   
  
Lost in thought, he didn’t even notice when a certain blond boy took a seat beside him, and didn’t react until an arm was draped over his shoulders. Turning quickly to see the potential threat, Thomas immediately softened when he saw that it was Newt. Relaxing in the other boy’s hold, his arms left where they were hugging his knees in favour of attaching himself to Newt, clinging to him as a lifeline.   
  
“Tommy-“ Newt started, voice hoarse, before cutting himself off and wrapping his other arm around Thomas. He knew how the brunet felt, having lost so many of his friends all in the span of a day, and knew that nothing could be said to ease the pain of loss so profound. Curling up with Thomas practically in his lap, he just sighed and ran a shaky hand through dark brown tufts, massaging gently.   
  
Thomas felt shame burn in his stomach at showing so much weakness in front of someone he respected so much, but he couldn’t help it. The toll of the past few days had caught up on him, and it was all he could do to hold the tears behind his eyes at bay. Suddenly he felt soft lips touch the skin of his forehead, and then felt Newt tense up against him, seemingly becoming aware of his actions.   
  
Thomas didn’t have the energy to comment, so instead just tightened his grip around Newt’s waist and closed his eyes.    
  
Eventually, Newt relaxed again, and Thomas fell asleep to the gentle lull of fingers combing through his hair.   
  
  
3   
  
Newt hated sand. Sure, he respected its power and ferociousness, but he hated it nonetheless. It seemed that the dreaded stuff made its way into everything, from his hair to the toes of his boots.   
  
That’s why, when the group found a building that had been abandoned long before the reservoir tank had been emptied of water, it was cause for celebration. They weren’t stupid or careless, of course, and Brenda, Thomas, and Aris had each led a party of people to search the building for cranks before letting their guard down, while Frypan and Newt worked to board up all windows and doors from the inside.   
  
When the building was secure and clear of cranks, half the team stated at their posts while the other half filed down to a large room filled with showers. Obviously, they could only step in for long enough to scrub the grime, blood, and of course sand off they bodies before swapping with the next person waiting. Newt was part of the first group, and when it was his turn he almost cried with how good the lukewarm water felt running down his aching body.   
  
He knew that the water wasn’t endless, however, and jumped out as soon as he felt he was clean enough to last a week or so again, using an old t-shirt to dry himself off before dressing and heading back out, nodding to Clint that he could go in.   
  
When he returned, Tommy was sitting on a window ledge on the lower floor, looking, as always, like the most beautiful fucking man on the earth, the scorching sunlight casting shadows along his face in all the right places. Newt must have made a noise or something, because Thomas turned around and shot him one of his trademark grins.   
  
“Hey! I’ve never seen your hair all wet before,” he exclaimed, hopping off the windowsill and taking the few steps needed to close the distance between them.   
  
Newt reached a hand up simi-self consciously and ran it through his hair. He never did like the way it plastered itself to his forehead and stuck up at odd angles when wet. “Yeah yeah, I know I look like a bloody wet rat, ya don’t need to’ point it out, shuckface,” He huffed around a laugh, suddenly feeling very inadequate next to his Tommy.   
  
“What? No, you’re adorable, is all,” Thomas replied, bringing his hand up to grab Newt’s and move it away from his hair. “I like it; it’s very unrat-like. Much cuter than that,” he said, fond smile never leaving his face as he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the blond’s still-damp hair, running his thumb soothingly along his cheek before pulling away.   
  
Newt could feel his ears burning as Thomas walked off to have a shower himself, and could only muster a weak “Shut up” to a smirking Aris before picking up a rifle and taking Thomas’s place.   
  
Unbeknownst to him, Thomas himself was, at that moment, frozen by the doorway to the showers, questioning his every life decision that led him to this point.

  
4   
  
Climbing the large sand dune to get back to the main camp where everyone else was already settling in for the night was difficult due to his limp being aggravated and prominent from days of walking on it, but he was determined to make it to the top without any help from the others. Newt had been out all day searching for supplies with Tommy and Frypan and had totally forgotten about the massive hill that was blocking the other from the view of cranks and from the blistering sand carried in the wind.   
  
Fry had already mounted the dune and was heading down the other side before Newt could even manage halfway, and he was cursing himself and his stupid bum leg every step of the way.   
  
Thomas, behind him, had apparently had enough of watching his friend struggle because he pushed himself beside Newt with an air of determination before demanding, “Newt, if you don’t let me lean on you I might just collapse of exhaustion.” It was a feeble excuse and they both knew it, but Newt let it slide nonetheless. Thomas was just trying to help, after all, and when has Newt ever been able to deny those puppy dog eyes?   
  
“Yeah, whatever Tommy,” he mumbled, letting the boy wrap an arm around his waist to support him, pointedly ignoring the brunet’s satisfied grin.   
  
The two made it up the hill in no time at all after that, Newt’s normal pissy mood at being treated like he was broken and fragile was dampened by the fact that Tommy looked like he had just won the lottery. When said boy removed his arm from around Newt’s torso, he couldn’t help but feel empty at the loss of contact. He felt like he should have been mad at Thomas for helping him, but he just couldn’t.   
  
“Thanks,” he said awkwardly once some space had been put between them, “I- uh- appreciate it.”   
  
“Hey, you were helping me out too, remember?” Thomas replied imploringly, as if he really expected Newt to believe that it was done for his own benefit and not just Newt’s. It was... Oddly endearing.   
  
While Newt was contemplating this (with undoubtedly one of those gross lovesick expressions that he had seen on the faces of Ben and Gally back in the maze), Thomas stepped into his space once again to drop an affectionate kiss onto his nose before pulling away.   
  
“I’ll race you down the hill!” He called excitedly, have seemed to not even register what he had just done.   
  
Newt sputtered, “I- you- Fine Tommy, you’re on,” he eventually settled with, ignoring the heat he could feel on his cheeks and the blazing sensation Tommy’s lips had left where they touched him.   
  
  
5   
  
“Just a little longer Newt, I promise, we’re almost there...” Thomas was walking through the last city, hobbling along with Newt clutches tightly in his arms, being carried bridal style.   
  
“T-Tommy, I d-don’t know how m-much longer I c-can-“ Newt struggles to say, being interrupted by the black tar-like substance leaking from his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He was obviously trying extremely hard to hold himself together, but the stress of the past few days had spurred the virus on to a point where he was just teetering the Gone. “You’ve gotta p-promise me-“   
  
“No. Newt don’t you dare- I won’t- I can’t-“ Thomas paused to take a breath and compose himself, momentarily forgetting to keep walking as all his attention was on the boy in his arms. “Don’t you get it? There’s no paradise if you’re not there with me.”   
  
Thomas takes another breath and tears his eyes away from Newt, forcing his legs to continue carrying him forward and praying with every step that Brenda would show up with the serum.    
  
He didn’t even notice the tears running down his face until he felt calloused fingers brushing them away. His knees gave out, and he felt himself tripping and falling slowly. Collapsing on the ground, he looked back at Newt to find his favourite blond was shedding silent tears of his own.   
  
“Don’t c-cry Tommy, please don’t cry,” Newt murmured from where he was resting his head on Thomas’s shoulder. Of _course_ Newt would be concerned about _him_ and _his_ wellbeing, even though he wasn’t the one with a horrific disease flowing through his bloodstream. Why, out of everyone, was he the one that this was happening to? Why couldn’t it have been Thomas instead of Newt, who was probably the kindest and most pure-hearted man to ever exist? God knows Thomas would trade his life to save him any day.   
  
Just then, Thomas felt gentle kisses along his jaw; the delicacy of them tearing a heart-wrenching sob from his throat. Newt shushed him again, the sounds magnified by proximity, “You’ll be okay love, you’ll be okay.”   
  
Thomas chuckled lowly, a wet, pained sound, “Newt, it isn’t me that I’m worried about.” Newt didn’t answer, just continued to press reassurances into the sensitive skin of his neck, nimble fingers threading themselves into the hair at the nape of his neck, wordlessly urging him to continue.   
  
With the energy provided by soft breaths against his skin, Thomas got up on shaky legs and did exactly that.   
  
  
+1   
  
He wouldn’t leave Newt alone, he just wouldn’t. Now that he had a viable cure, there was no way Newt wasn’t going to get it. His stomach felt like it was on fire and every step his feet made on the crumbling pavement below was like a fresh blow to the still bleeding gunshot wound. He could see the berg in the distance, however, so he knew that he couldn’t stop for anything.   
  
He vaguely heard Theresa calling for him behind him, but all his focus was on getting to Newt. Sure, he loved the girl like a sister, but when it came down to it Newt was always gonna be his top priority. He sincerely hoped that she made it, but he just didn’t have time to stop and help her.   
  
Thomas urged his legs to keep going despite the pain, something that was growing increasingly difficult. Taking deep breaths, he thought about the reason he was doing all this in the first place. He thought about golden hair, a laugh like honey, mischievous grins and warm brown eyes that looked at him like he _meant_ something.    
  
He’d save Newt. He had to. Whatever it took, he was going to bring this _fucking_ cure back to him and _hold him in his fucking arms_ and fucking _kiss him_ and just fucking _love him already_ \- Jesus _fucking_ Christ!   
  
“Fuck,” Thomas mustered, breaking off into something akin to a sob. God, what if he never got to see those eyes or hear that laugh again? The berg had started its engines and had risen to a hover to escape the crashing of burning building below on the tarmac. He was certain that they were going to leave without him (and when he was so close, too) when he heard a familiar British accent call out, “Look! There he is! Come on you bloody idiots, help him up!”   
  
Somehow the sound of that voice brought a whole new energy, and Thomas was sprinting down the last fifty meters or so there was left. His lungs burned and his vision was starting to black out around the edges when he jumped, the last thing he remembered being the feeling of steady grips along his arms and torso and a wild prayer to any god that would listen that Newt would somehow get his hands on the vial of bright blue liquid clutched safely in the palm of his hand.   
  
—————   
  
When, after a long while, Thomas came to, it was to the sounds of waves crashing against a shore and the feeling of fingers running through his hair. Sitting up and slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes, he felt the hand dart back and he frowned. He rather liked that feeling, as a matter of fact.   
  
Turning to see who the culprit was, he was met face to face with an angel. “Am I- am I dead?” He asked the beautiful boy hesitantly, not believing what his eyes were telling him. The angel giggled, “No Tommy, ‘fraid you’re stuck here for a while longer,” he paused, “that alright?”   
  
Thomas didn’t bother answering, just pulled Newt down to sit on the bed next to him with a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart. Newt let out a surprised little huff of air that soon morphed into a laugh as Thomas curled into his side, pressing his face into his chest. “I’m so fucking glad to see you,” he said into the fabric of Newt’s shirt. Inhaling, he was delighted that the boy still smelt the same, something that had always been strangely comforting to him.   
  
“Woah, careful there, you’ll wanna watch those stitches.” Newt teased, with a hint of concern.   
  
Thomas pulled back and stared at Newt incredulously. “Wha- Are you kidding me? Dude, you’re the one with the-“ He cut himself off, grabbing Newt’s wrist and looking up at him curiously when he couldn’t find any of the black veins that had plagued his friend’s skin for weeks.   
  
“Yeah,” Newt answered his wordless question, “It’s gone. Whatever was in that vial you were holding cleared it all up on a matter of hours.” He paused, lowering his voice a little and turning away, “I owe you my life.”   
  
Thomas was giddy with joy and relief, practically jumping back onto Newt and ignoring the dull ache in his side. He pushed the blond into the makeshift pillow and brought both hands up to cup his face. Patches of colour were appearing over Newt’s cheeks and down his neck (Thomas becoming momentarily distracted by how downright beautiful he looked like this), and he stuttered, “T-Tommy?”   
  
“I could have lost you but- but you’re okay. You’re okay and I’m okay and _fuck_ Newt I love you so much, holy shit,” Thomas rambled, not being able to wait for a second longer before leaning down and capturing his lips in a searing kiss.    
  
Newt immediately kissed back, their lips moving against one another with an addictive slide. It was innocent at first, just consisting of an exploration of bodies and pure unadulterated love being conveyed from one boy to the other, but when Thomas slipped a little and instinctively sucked Newt’s bottom lip into his mouth to hold on, the blond made a noise that vibrated all through him, from his head to his toes. Suddenly, being the cause of Newt making that blessed sound was his new goal. Newt tasted like mint and salt, paired with something uniquely him, and Thomas couldn’t get enough. He was dizzy with it, drunk off the smell and those small little sounds Newt was making every time Thomas tried something new or curled his tongue just right. He ran his thumbs along his cheekbones and felt Newt’s hands clasped in his own well-worn shirt.   
  
Eventually, they had to pull away for air (stupid oxygen), and spent a half second just staring at each other, glazed eyes meeting glazed eyes as they gasped for breath before Newt broke into a wide grin and pulled Thomas down to rest in his arms, head on his chest. “‘Bout time we did that properly,” Newt commented at last, making his chest vibrate under Thomas’s head.   
  
He couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not super happy with this one, but take it i guess. i can't get it how i want so i just kinda gave up. gross.
> 
> the feedback i got on my last little thing was so nice?? i was v nervous because it was the first thing i've ever posted on here, and i'm so happy people liked it!
> 
> p.s. comment prompts n stuff if u want! i’m always a slut for some help from y’all


End file.
